


A Walking Wanderer

by Val_Creative



Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Canon, Canon - Book & TV Combination, Casual Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Episode Related, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Injury Recovery, Introspection, Lyra's World (His Dark Materials), M/M, Mild Language, Recreational Drug Use, Season/Series 02, Sexual Content, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27828019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Lee and Grumman enjoy a night to themselves and relax before carrying on with their adventure.
Relationships: John Parry/Lee Scoresby
Comments: 15
Kudos: 120
Collections: John Parry and Lee Scoresby





	A Walking Wanderer

**Author's Note:**

> THE CHEMISTRY. THANK YOU ANDREW AND LIN. Hope you enjoy this! Any thoughts/comments are always deeply appreciated and met with me screaming in joy by myself in my room. Are there fellow Lee/Grumman shippers out there? 💜

*

"You seem weary, Lee Scoresby."

Grumman isn't mistaken. The more Lee considers it, the more he realises how frantic and tired his bones are. There's a lingering sensation of soreness behind his eyes. Every noise has him anticipating the worst. The Magisterium won't stop. They won't stop to capture him, dead or alive. Marisa Coulter, friend or foe… or neither… he may owe her for that escape.

Lee rubs the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. "It's been a long journey gettin' here, Mister Jopari. But it's worth it for Lyra." He slaps his knees, rising to his feet and passing Grumman by. "We best be off. Sooner the better. Take only what ya need…"

He hesitates.

Grumman's hand clasps onto the inside of Lee's arm, warm and light, keeping him in place. One of Hester's ears droop.

"Please…" Grumman murmurs, maintaining eye contact. "Sit. Make yourself comfortable."

It's more of him insisting than giving an order, but even so, Lee finds himself studying the other man's face guardedly. This is the man who commanded the toughest scoundrels known of Tartars and they obeyed him like nervous children. A man of healing and fierce curiosity and wisdom. Lee figures Grumman could make any man alive do his bidding if he wished.

"In the morning, you can lead me to where you need be. Until then, sit and rest."

Hester sniffs, nose twitching, lowering her head to Sayan Kötör whistling. Her little osprey eyes blink calmly.

Lee looks like he wants to argue, aiming a skeptical look at Grumman before groaning out his surrender. He presses the heel of his palm over an eyelid. "Alright," Lee says complaining. "Alright then. But I ain't about to let ya out of my sights now."

"Fair enough," Grumman concludes with a hint of amusement, walking off to scrub Lee's dirtied plate.

The corner of his mouth dimples.

*

After making his deal about keeping Lyra under the protection of the knife-bearer, Lee spends time wandering outside. There's a boathouse on the right end and an outhouse back near the swamplands. All of it nailed together with rotted wood.

He half-expects to see any of the Yenisei Pakhtars tribe.

None appear.

Lee fills his pipe once inside Grumman's cabin, exhaling a trail of smoke and watching the constellations brighten.

A silent Grumman lurks by the woodstove, reading papers intently. His white osprey daemon, with dark brown capping her head and speckled to her breast, dutifully watches over Grumman with the utmost patience and benevolence of one who loved with all of their heart. Sayan Kötör flaps her wings a little as Lee approaches. Hester crouches defensively, snorting out a laugh.

"Would ya care to partake?" Lee asks, holding out his thin bundle of smokeleaf.

Grumman looks up with a close-lipped smile but doesn't accept. He's handsome for a rumored dead man, Lee thinks.

"Ever heard of cloversweet?"

"Reckon I haven't…" Lee says thoughtfully.

"A long time ago, the headman of this tribe discovered it. The cloversweet bush grows on these lands surrounding the mountains in the Yenisei river and can have quite a relaxing effect. Oftentimes it can alleviate pain." Grumman tucks away his papers into his embroidered jacket, heading to a cupboard to pull open a drawer. "I keep too much, I'm afraid."

Lee observes the dried, crushed herbs with a pale yellow colouring. There _is_ a sweetness in the odour. It reminds Lee of cherry jam. "Well, that's mighty kind of you," he mumbles, turning one of the cloversweets between his leather-gloved fingers.

"The herb works best if you chew with a mouthful of water."

Grumman demonstrates, placing a crushed herb on his tongue and flattening it to the roof of his mouth. He drinks from a cattle's horn, swallowing the water and chewing what remains. Lee does the same, eyeing Hester for her approval beforehand.

Numbness tingles pleasantly over his senses. There's a lack of cherry flavour in Lee's mouth. Or sweetness.

The constant ache and sting of his facial bruises, as well as Lee's half-healed injuries, already feel much improved. Lee puffs on the smokeleaf burning faintly in his pipe, delighted in how the tingly-pleasant sensations amplify. His head whirls. Lee flops onto Grumman's pile of blankets, lying out on his back and moaning. His hands fold over his stomach.

_"My…"_

A good-natured chuckle. Grumman sits beside him on the cot, Sayan Kötör perching on his knee.

Hester stretches her feet, yawning and curling down on Lee's jacket. She's relaxing, too. Miracles can be real sometimes.

"Do you ever dream of your mother?"

Grumman's knuckle strokes into his daemon's feathers. She chirps quietly.

"All the time," Lee rasps. "Mm'still waitin' on an explanation as to how ya got her ring. I lost that back home years n' years ago."

"I can do many things you may not understand, Lee Scoresby. That is the nature of a shaman."

He likes the way his name sounds in Grumman's mouth. He kind of likes him, too. "Call me Lee, Mister Jopari."

Grumman's lips quirk up.

"As you wish."

Everything blurs, heightens and heats up inside Lee, but in a good way. It's like his worries and his cares drip away like snowmelt. Lee refocuses on Grumman's face over him, his brow furrowing. "Yrr'not from 'round these parts, are ya?"

"No…" Grumman admits. "I am not from this world of yours…"

His fingers stroke suddenly into Lee's hair, treating him gently like Grumman had done Sayan Kötör's feathers.

"But I am grateful you are here with me…"

_"Lee…"_

*

"Lee!"

Hester's frustrated voice drifts in. She stomps a paw.

"Lee Scoresby!"

_"Get up, you overgrown wart!"_

Lee crinkles his nose, raising his head drowsily and gazing over his shoulder on the floor. His hat abandoned there.

"Damn it, Hester… couldja let a man sleep for a one more minute…?" he protests.

"It's been two and a half hours since dawn," Hester reminds him. "You're the one who wanted to leave bright and early, Lee."

She hops away.

Lee smacks his dry lips. He realizes several things all at once: Lee passed out on Grumman's blankets, with Grumman nearby; it's gotten as cold as a witch's teat — and in the middle of the night, Lee ended up hugging his arms to the nearest source of warmth; and, Grumman has woken up alongside Lee, his top-knot messy, as soon as a flustered Lee jerks back his arms.

"S'rry," Lee mumbles, propping himself on an elbow.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Grumman rolls over, peering down expectantly to the tent between the other man's legs.

That's when Lee almost smacks himself in the face.

Oh.

_Oh, no._

Embarrassment floods him, addling Lee's already disoriented senses, but Grumman appears unbothered, of all things, to have woken to another man's hardened cock pressed against his arse. Perhaps it's not the first time.

"Would you like me to take care of that for you?" Grumman monotones. His expression soft and still.

Lee can't help it — he cracks a doubtfully wide grin, bellowing out a laugh.

"Come again?"

It takes a moment to process that Grumman is serious. Lee's cheeks warm.

"Are… are ya fixin' to?" Lee adds.

Grumman's lips tilt up again, and Lee knows exactly what he wants but decided to not think or act on it. It's got nothing to do with Grumman being a man like Lee — it's about _Lyra_. She's in trouble. Lee can't be distracted from his mission to help her.

"I wouldn't have mentioned it otherwise, Lee."

Lee's throat clenches. He would like to hear him when their mouths pushed together, ravaging each other, savouring the heat.

"Suppose so…" Lee murmurs awe-stricken, "if that's what ya want…"

Grumman doesn't have to ask Lee what he wants — because as soon as Lee realises this, he kisses Grumman.

One of Lee's hands slides over Grumman's jaw prickling with dark hairs. He's used to being in control. He's used to women as much as men. Grumman is lean, but powerful and rough, managing to keep Lee on his back and unbuttoning Lee's waistcoat.

The kiss opens, Lee's tongue heavily prodding Grumman's. His hand slides up further to Grumman's nape, clutching him closer.

Grumman reaches for Lee's belt-buckle, undoing it.

Lee hisses out softly through his teeth, as Grumman's ice-cold fingers touch him, his mouth kiss-reddened. "Forgive me," Grumman mumbles sheepishly, warming his hands by rubbing them together. Lee tries to gather his racing thoughts.

He _kissed_ Grumman—

_Oh—_

A pulse of arousal shoots through Lee when Grumman's fingers return. He eases Lee's cock out into the open, working him back to his previous fullness, observing him through his eyelashes. Grumman's thumb sweeps over the visibly wet tip.

"You're sensitive."

Lee feels one of his bruises aching while tensing. He's certainly sobered up if anything. "Ss'good thing."

Grumman laughs, exposing his teeth, and it's about one of the mesmerising sounds Lee has ever heard in his life. "I am not disagreeing," he informs Lee, moving down to seat himself comfortably between Lee's thighs and dropping his head.

His mouth, saliva-slick and hot — Lee tilts his head on the cot, arching himself and biting down a loud, euphoric moan. Grumman feels hot inside. The walls of Grumman's throat tighten on Lee, his lips sucking and shifting up and down his shaft. One of Grumman's hands grip onto Lee's right hip, and the other smudge-tattoo hand crawls up Lee's stomach.

Lee pants, thrusting a little into Grumman's mouth occasionally. His fingers wind into Grumman's top-knot, unraveling it.

_Ohhh—_

Maybe he's not all of the way sobered up.

That would explain why Lee cannot tell immediately how long it's been. The orgasm thumps in his veins, shrilling and warm. Grumman wipes the dampness off his ruddy, chapped-soft lips, kneeling up and swallowing. Strands of black fall over his eyes.

Grumman reaches for the broken animal-hide twine, gathering up his hair earnestly and re-tying the knot.

"Would you like a bacon jam sandwich before we depart?"

Lee stares in mounting bewilderment, frowning.

"… Yrr makin' me breakfast on top of it?"

"I will assume that is a yes," Grumman answers for him, climbing onto his feet and offering a thin smile. He heads for the woodstove. Lee thuds his head against the cot's bedding in exasperation, grinding a palm over his nose.

This is gonna be a long journey.

And, damn it, they still got a balloon to find.

*


End file.
